The Heart Of the Nautilus
by Maddie
Summary: The moon was a geologic oddity. Nothing more. Or was it harboring a darker secret.
1. Default Chapter

**_Title: _**The Heart of the Nautilus  
**_Author: _**Maddie  
**_Rating: K+_**  
**_Category: _**General/HC  
**_Disclaimer: _**Paramount owns them all...the ship, the crew and the universe, but...the plot belongs to me.  
**_Archiving: _**Yes, but only with permission from author. My stories are like my children. I like to know where they end up spending the night.  
**_Feedback: _**Always welcome  
**_Summary_**

**_Author's notes: _**This story was originally published in hard copy by Orion Press in their Star Trek: The Next Generation fanzine _Eridani 18_ (October, 1992).

_**The Heart of the Nautilus**_

By Maddie

"Commander Riker."

William Riker turned and waited for the crewman who approached from behind him. "What can I do for you, Ensign Gourley?"

The tall youth, almost equal in height to his first officer, but slender as a willow, bowed slightly from the waist in acknowledgment of his name. "I am working with geologist Abruzzi on the survey of planetoid CDZ-443. She asked for this report to be brought to her as soon as it was completed, along with a portable seismologic unit. I am required on board to monitor sensitive testing, but was told you were en route to the planetoid and might take the equipment with you." The young man spoke in a single breathless rush and now stood awaiting an answer.

_Which he had better get quickly so he can start breathing again_, Riker thought suppressing a smile. "Anything else, Ensign?"

"Message disk, sir." Gourley quickly thrust out his hand.

"Carry on, Ensign," Riker said, relieving him of the disk he carried. The lanky youth turned and hurried down the corridor in the direction of the geology labs. Scratching his beard, Riker shook his head. It's a fine day on the Enterprise when its first officer plays messenger boy for its newest ensign, Riker grinned. But planetoid CDZ-443, a solitary moon circling Velusia, the planet they currently orbited, was out of the ordinary. Normally, the geology department found little excitement outside the routine of shipboard life since in-depth geologic studies were handled by science vessels which would spend the necessary weeks or months conducting surveys properly. But occasionally, a mysterious little anomaly, like the planetoid below them, presented itself and the geology staff had the opportunity and the time to do the initial data collection and analysis. Then, the geologists were in heaven, making the most of the chance to practice their science.

Riker stepped into the turbolift. "Bridge," he said, then waited for the whisper soft sound of the lift's operating mechanism and the familiar sensation of motion as it carried him to his destination. Stepping out on the bridge, he nodded acknowledgment to the on-duty staff, and then went straight to the captain's ready room.

"Come." Riker heard the captain's customary response to his request to enter. He visualized Picard seated, probably reading, taking full advantage of their current state of calm. His mental picture was correct.

"Captain, I was preparing to go on shore leave, but first I thought I would check with the scientific team on the planetoid."

"Ah, yes, Number One." The captain rose from his sofa and walked to his desk, laying his book carefully on its polished surface. "How goes the project?"

"Fine, sir," Riker said, sitting opposite the captain and stretching his long legs. "Nothing unusual or unexpected has been found as yet. So far the results have been almost identical to the studies conducted on Sigma Adhara Four."

"The most interesting and exciting aspect being that there exists a second such planetoid when the first was thought to be geologically unique."

"Yes, sir." Riker had been a young ensign, participating in one of his first away team assignments when he had helped investigate Sigma Adhara Four. Believed to be a unique geologic oddity, it was with some surprise that an off duty Federation geologic team practicing underground rescue techniques had stumbled upon Sigma Adhara Four's identical twin, planetoid CDZ-443, otherwise known as the moon of Velusia, a newly established port in this sector.

Both worlds were composed primarily of dense, igneous rock, richly veined with heavy metal ores, which inhibited sensor scans and had masked their unusual interior structure from cursory examination. And it was the interior of the two planets which made them unique, for under the unassuming surface of each existed a warren of precisely symmetrical caves. In neither case did the caves appear to be the result of mining activity since none of the minerals present were precious and most were sufficiently abundant and more easily mined on other worlds. The tunnels of CDZ-443 showed no obvious signs of tooling or habitation by any life form; however, they were within centimeters of being identically proportioned to each other and to those found on Sigma Adhara Four-too regular in appearance to be a coincidence. When asked about possible explanations for the unusual formations, the Velusian scientific community had simply shrugged, and to an individual replied, "The moon is the moon." Yet, the Enterprise's geologists marveled at the regularity of the tunnel structure. So, while the off-duty members of the Enterprise crew enjoyed shore leave on Velusia, the members of the geology department had blissfully immersed themselves in their puzzle, rarely surfacing for anything except to communicate with the Enterprise. Since conventional communicator transmissions were garbled by the heavy metal content of the moon's natural rock formations, detailed test information had been sent via hand carried disk.

"Has Lieutenant Abruzzi indicated how much longer her team would need? I would like her personnel to take advantage of shore leave while available if they so desire," the captain said, interrupting Biker's reverie.

"I suspect they're so cave happy, they wouldn't miss shore leave, but I will express your concern to Lieutenant Abruzzi," the first officer replied. "She had requested an additional seismologic unit, and I thought I would transfer the equipment on my way to Velusia."

"Playing messenger boy, Number One?"

"It would appear so, sir," Riker laughed. "But in all honesty, I'm curious to take a look myself."

"I understand from the reports I've seen that this type of cavern formation is not as unique as we had once suspected."

"Yes. I can't help thinking we should be doing archeological as well as xenobiology surveys, but there hasn't been the slightest indication of any life form, present or past."

"Then it remains an anomaly, simply a more curious one."

"It would seem so, sir."

"Well then, Number One," the captain said, taking up his book again, "enjoy your shore leave and your tour of the moon."

"Certainly, sir," Riker said as he rose to leave the captain's ready room.

Riker bent over to peer into the tiny cubicle. Roughly a one-point-five meter cube, the walls were gently curved and the texture of coarse gravel imbedded in sandstone, yet he could see crystals glittering in the light from his hand held torch. The pattern of the cubicle repeated hundreds of times along the length of the cramped corridor in which they crouched.

"We've considered the possibility that these formations grow similar to crystals only on a larger basis," Lieutenant Abruzzi reported. "As crystals are regular, predictable arrangements of molecules, these caves are regular formations with airspaces as well as wall structure arranged in a honeycomb fashion. As far as we've been able to determine, they continue to the planet's core. We are taking seismologic readings to determine their extent."

"But you've found nothing that would indicate a life form is responsible?" Riker pressed, sizing up the diminutive geologist He mentally catalogued Evlin Abruzzi's credentials. Her geologic expertise was cave formation, her hobby spelunking. Appropriate for her size, he mused, much more so than his own. His back was starting to protest his crouched position, while Abruzzi was able to stand almost erect.

"No." Abruzzi's answer seemed hesitant. She shook her head, the torch light catching the sheen of her cropped black hair.

"Not an unqualified 'no' I take it"

Abruzzi looked perplexed. "It should be an unqualified 'no', sir. There is absolutely no evidence to support the theory that there is or ever was any organic life form involved in the formation of these pockets. Even non-organic life forms, such as the Horta, can leave some residue of their existence. We haven't yet ruled out that possibility. In the meantime, it reminds me of the chambered nautilus."

Riker arched his back to ease the kink developing in it. He was beginning to feel ridiculous stooped over while Lieutenant Abruzzi stood upright. "Chambered nautilus?" he asked.

"A quotation from an old earth poem about an ocean cephalopod," Abruzzi commented, brushing the hair from her forehead. "The pearly nautili were marine mollusks of a high grade of organization that flourished during the Paleozoic era on Earth. The external shell consisted of many chambers, either coiled or straight. A siphonal tunnel ran the length of the shell and the body of the animal was lodged in the outermost and largest chamber. If you look closely you can see a small opening at the base of the rear wall of this chamber that makes me think of the siphonal opening." Abruzzi directed her torch towards the far wall of the chamber Riker had just examined. "As far as we can tell this opening runs through the entire series of cavities. The old Earth nautili's had a soft body dominated by a head and tentacles, basically the same as a squid or octopus." Abruzzi broke off and looked at Riker apologetically. "Excuse me, sir. I can see I'm off on yet another boring lecture." She sighed and looked wistfully at the interior of the chamber. "This place would be a spelunker's delight if it weren't for this nagging feeling-"

"The nagging feeling that something is going to jump out of the shadows when you least expect it and say 'boo'," Riker said half to himself, remembering he had experienced a similar sensation on Sigma Adhara Four. He had never voiced his feelings because he had assumed his apprehension at the time was due to inexperience in away team operations.

"Yes," Abruzzi said softly, as though she expected an eavesdropper to overhear. "Exactly that nagging feeling. And there is no evidence to support the suspicion."

"We first officers are paid to be suspicious, Lieutenant."

"And we geologists are paid to be curious." Abruzzi smiled easily. "I must say this formation is most definitely a curiosity, more so knowing it is the second such structure to be studied. The Velusians don't have a great deal of interest in how or why these caves were created. In fact, they seem determined to avoid discussing it. Bring up the topic, and they promptly change the subject. They did tell us that the upper levels of these caverns were once used as part of a penal colony, but the practice was discontinued, abruptly, many years ago.

"Did they say why they discontinued using it?"

"They were very vague about the entire project and refused to discuss any particulars, but did claim they never penetrated this far into the interior and that they most definitely did not construct the system. We began our investigations at the lower limits of their prison complex so we would be studying pristine tunnels. There appear to be no existing records concerning the operation of the colony or the type of prisoner confined here."

"Very short ones, I hope," Riker muttered. "Well, Lieutenant, you and your team have another two days to study the situation. Any of your people wishing shore leave during that time should make the request as soon as possible. The Velusians may be vague about their moon, but they are very congenial hosts."

"I was going directly to the surface from here, sir," Abruzzi said. "We are about finished with our collection of raw data. Its analysis will keep us busy for days after we leave orbit"

"Then I'll accompany you to the beam down point, Lieutenant."•

"This way, Commander," Abruzzi said, gesturing toward the end of the narrow tunnel they had been standing in. "There are some taller passages in this direction.

_The kink in my back must be pretty obvious_, Riker thought, but he was glad for the taller tunnels even if the difference was barely a half meter. He still couldn't stand up straight, but it was better than walking stooped over.

"The beam down point is up several levels from here," Abruzzi said after they had walked a few minutes in silence. We've arranged with planet side transporters to beam directly to the surface from here."

"Yes, Lieutenant. I've informed the Enterprise that I would not be using their transporters to beam up." In the dim light, Riker could see the flush spreading across the geologist's face.

"Excuse me, again, sir. I have the nasty habit of playing troop leader."

"Even for the real troop leaders?"

"Yes, sir."

Riker laughed softly. "I can't fault your efficiency, Lieutenant." With a brief smile, he turned to note her response, as she dropped completely from sight He almost had time to register a sense of surprise before he was engulfed in blackness and half-falling, half-sliding through a torturous, twisted tunnel, barely wide enough to let his shoulders pass. He made a vain attempt to stop himself, and succeeded only in taking most of the skin off his fingers, elbows and knees. With a sudden, sickening jolt, he stopped, the breath pounded out of his lungs as he hit the bottom of the chimney like shaft. His outstretched arm made contact with the still warm body of Lieutenant Abruzzi. Twisting, he groped for her neck, searching for a pulse. He could feel the awkward flop of her head, and heard a sickening bony grind. There was no pulse, and his hand came away wet with blood.

"Damn." He drew back, trying to sit up in the confining space. He touched the communicator on his chest, knowing it was a vain gesture. "Riker to Enterprise.' He was answered by white crackling. Fighting a wash of dizziness, he reached up over his head for the opening through which they had fallen. He hoped to find enough purchase to climb back upward. Gingerly, he eased his broad shoulders through the tunnel opening, groping for handholds, aware of the abraded flesh on his hands, shoulders, back and knees. He felt like he'd gone ten rounds with an Aldeberan ironworm, and lost. His fingers gripped a slight outcropping. Even holodeck workouts with Worf s simulations could not prepare him for the kind of climb he was about to attempt. In a vertical crawlspace barely wide enough for him to pass, he would have to depend upon finger and arm strength.

Taking a deep breath, he mentally braced himself. Judging from the length of his fall, he had several hundred meters to ascend, one pull-up at a time. "So start now," he said to himself. He resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder. Abruzzi was dead, and her death was senseless, yet he could have sworn that section of tunnel was solid, and she must have thought the same. She never gave any indication they should proceed with caution. Her service record showed her to be a highly experienced spelunker, not the sort to make such an error. Unless, and he did not like the implication of the thought, the opening hadn't been there until they stepped into it.

Taking a second deep breath, he heaved himself upward, supporting his full weight on his fingertips. Releasing his right hand and groping for a new handhold, he drew himself carefully upward. As soon as his legs and feet were inside the shaft, he would be able to use them to brace himself against the sides of the narrow opening.

"One handhold at a time," he said softly, then inhaled with an unexpected, sharp gasp, and realized he'd been holding his breath. Forcing himself to breathe naturally, he inched painfully upward. He had just wedged his feet at the bottom of the shaft when a whip tight pressure wrapped around his lower calf. He had the fleeting impression of a snakelike appendage, and a rush of fear wrenched his determination, just as his feet were wrenched from under him, and he fell, striking his head against the cavern floor, and blacking out.


	2. part two

Riker awoke in stygian darkness. No light, no sound, no motion, betrayed the solidity of the blackness. The throbbing in his head made him groan aloud, the hollow sound of his voice muted by the closeness of the walls around him. Slowly, not wanting to jar his aching head, he reached out to touch the wall nearest his arm. At the same time, he stretched his legs, only to find, there was nowhere to stretch. The walls were coarse, slightly curved, and he thought with a churning fear in his stomach, precisely the same as the chambers he had examined earlier with Abruzzi. Except this cubicle had no entrance, and no seam where an entrance had been. It was more tightly closed than a tomb, and Riker had to fight the flush of panic that welled up his spine.

Taking care not to bang uselessly about, he sat upright in the cocoon like space. Feeling as far as he could, he confirmed his earlier fear. He was in an enclosure like the ones the geologic team had been analyzing. Then, if that were the case, there should be an opening at the lower comer. He shifted, feeling cautiously until his hand found the open space he was looking for. It was roughly the circumference of his leg. He hesitated. His mind conjuring all the terrifying images he'd ever dreamt of as a child, things creeping from dark holes at night, being inextricably caught in a trap from which he couldn't escape as death and destruction bore down on him.

He shuddered, then shoved the fears aside, unfounded fears for the most part, born of the overactive imagination of a young boy who escaped all too often into the fantasy lands of his mother's library. There was no evidence of any life on this planetoid, and yet, he remembered something firmly wrapped around his leg right before he fell the second time.

With exaggerated caution, Riker slid his arm into the opening, half-expecting it to be caught in a viselike grip, or severed in relentless jaws. Instead, he found cool stone, smoother than the walls of his prison, and faintly moist. But there were no monsters, no bestial maws. He laughed slightly, feeling foolish for his fears. Strange how a knock on the head can cause you to revert to your childhood, he thought. Yet, there was nothing amusing in his current predicament. He appeared to be hopelessly trapped and wondered how long it would take anyone to realize he was missing.

Leaning against the coarse stone, Riker knew he needed to think clearly. Despite his present predicament, there appeared to be a fresh supply of breathable air. _Think out your options_, he told himself grimly. _The first rule is knowing your options._

_Option one_, he thought, _starve to death_. Riker laughed at the mental imp that was determined to undermine his control.

Realistically, he acknowledged the dryness of his throat and the gnawing emptiness in his middle. Not only was he foolish enough to become trapped, he was foolish enough to do it without a survival kit.

_Option two, figure out a way to penetrate the interference caused by the heavy metal deposits in the surrounding rock so he could contact the Enterprise_. _Not likely_. Tapping his combadge lightly, he was relieved to hear the delicate tinkling of the activated mechanism, but once again his attempt at communication was answered by white noise. Still, he decided to test it at regular intervals.

_Option three, Deanna_? He had, on occasion, been able to contact her mentally. She was more aware of what went on inside his head than he cared to admit, but even her range of sensitivity was limited. Those moments when she had reached out to him, or he to her, had been moments of intense, life-threatening emotion. And although he felt stifled, he had not let himself feel the panic edging in on the borders of his forced calm. _Deanna_? He reached out tentatively. _Deanna. Imzadi? Can you hear me? Dear God, Deanna, are you there?_

Riker did not remember dozing off, but he had, and he awoke with a start. Had he heard the sound of weight dragging across stone, or had it been the last vestige of a dream? He rubbed his fists against the grittiness of his eyes, and fervently wished he could see, something-a faint glow, a luminescent shimmer - anything. There was a persistent ache in his skull that made concentrating difficult. Shifting his position to ease the cramped muscles of his legs and back, he hoped to work the ache out of his body and his spirit. As he did, his leg brushed against something and sent it skittering against a wall. Reaching cautiously sideways, he contacted a gelatinous mass; cool to the touch, and smelling faintly floral.

Cradling the mass gingerly, Riker wondered what it was and who or what had left it here. He thought of the opening in the cave floor. This placed an entirely new angle on his predicament. Was he a captive, a pet, an animal in a zoo? He remembered Abruzzi's nagging feeling. Did some form of life inhabit these honeycombed tunnels? If so, was there a chance he could communicate with it?

Suddenly, he was overwhelmed by an intense feeling of hunger and the almost instinctive knowledge that what he held in his hands was safe to eat. He stabbed at it with his fingers, remembering the look of delight he had seen on three-year-old Kereela Austin's face the first time she discovered a gelatinous dessert her mother had placed before her. Riker smiled. There was, most definitely, no way in hell, to eat the stuff politely with one's fingers. Stabbing tentatively at the substance again, he broke off a tiny bit and tasted it. It was faintly salty, in contrast to its fragrance, but cool. It eased the ache of his dry throat and, though light in physical substance, it alleviated the intense hunger he felt. When he finished, he turned so he lay on the floor near the hole in the rear, and spoke softly, "There, whoever or whatever you are, I ate it like a good boy. Now how about showing yourself." His answer was silence. "Well then, I'll wait." He settled back against the wall. It appeared there was little else he could do.

Clawing his way through the hazy depths of sleep, Riker was engulfed by a gnawing agony of hunger. The feeling was so sudden and intense it startled and confused him. He tried to move and found himself immobilized, his left arm pinned to his side and his legs held tightly together. Jerking against the force that held him, he groped in the darkness with his free arm and contacted...God, what is it? Coarse to the touch like a cat's tongue, cool and dry, it constricted tighter around him. He fought with all his strength, futilely in the cramped darkness, as the tentacle tightened, adhering to his uniform and his flesh where it was exposed through torn fabric. He wanted to scream, and perhaps he did, mentally, reaching out in his desperate fear to the one mind that might help him. "_Imzadi_?" The endearment and Deanna Troi's dark beauty flashed through his mind. "_Dear God, Imzadi, can you hear?"_

As quickly as the presence had appeared, it released him. He heard again, without doubt now, the rasping sound of a weight dragged across the stone floor of his cell. Then there was silence. With it had gone the gnawing hunger. Riker breathed in ragged gasps, terror pounding in his heart. If he wasn't a pet or a zoo animal, it appeared as though he might just be food. He sat up, gingerly feeling his arms and legs. Nothing was broken, but he felt bruised, as though the creature had tried to absorb him. Time stopped in the weighted darkness as he strained his ears to detect the slightest sound. The air was fetid with his own sweat and his frantic exhalations. He forced himself to breathe easily, so he could hear some noise besides his own bodily functions.

Something prodded the bottom of his foot. His first instinct was to withdraw, but there was nowhere to retreat to. Instead, he lunged forward, grabbing at whatever it was. He found himself with a handful of sinuous terror, and as he contacted the coarse flesh, he once again was assaulted by ravenous hunger, realizing it was not his, but its.

The creature broke his tenuous hold, and once again vanished. Riker slammed his fist into the unyielding rock, frustrated and angry. There was nothing left but to continue to play an interminable waiting game, and hope whatever his apparent captor was, it chose to return while he was still alive enough to deal with it.

The waiting ended more quickly than he had expected. Sitting motionless in the darkness, unable to completely stretch in any direction, straining his ears for the faintest sound, he was rewarded several hours later with the dragging noise he associated with the arrival of his visitor. He forced himself to remain utterly motionless, though every fiber wanted to avoid whatever it was. Aching, under stimulated senses reached through the blackness to touch, discover, and analyze this alien. Then, ever so faintly, he felt a nudge at his foot. He remained immobile until the nudge became more insistent. Then, reaching out his hand, palm upward, he felt a tentative touch, and a jolt of intense longing, a hunger that made him gasp with surprise.

Startled, Riker withdrew his hand, and felt the other withdraw as well. He did not want to convey an aura of revulsion for he did not feel revolted; simply startled by the violence of emotion projected each time his captor touched him. Taking the initiative, he stretched out his hand again, attempting to project calm thoughts. "I was surprised," he said aloud at the same time. "I'm not used to communicating this way, any more than you are. Come back, and I promise I'll sit still."

Riker felt a touch of humor about his predicament, the first glimmer of hope he'd felt since he landed in this hole. He had no idea what he was dealing with, but he instinctively knew that he had no reason to fear it. During their brief but violent first contact he had come to realize that it was, in some measure, sentient. They seemed to come to the same conclusion simultaneously, and when it touched him again, he knew with startling clarity, that it was as curious as he. A broad, thick tentacle gently brushed against his thigh, and then the probing tip settled a gift in his outstretched hand. It was another ball of the gelatinous substance he had found earlier.

"Peace offering?" Riker asked, and felt a slight prod of response. "I'm sorry. I wish I could reciprocate, but I have nothing to offer." As the limb brushed against him an agony of hunger burned across his mind. A third time it touched him, as though asking permission. Nestling the ball of gelatin in his other hand, Riker extended his open palm. The tentacle wrapped gently around his wrist and arm.

Riker was overwhelmed by a sudden apprehension. Had he been a fool and fallen for a trap after all? He felt the tentacle adhere leechlike to his arm and he jerked backward, forcefully breaking the grip once again, only to find that the tentacle did not withdraw, but deposited a second gelatinous mass into his palm. It was a peace offering. Whatever it was, it was trying to feed him and asking for the same in return.

"Damn," he muttered. He had not planned on being dinner. Riker reached slowly towards the stationary limb, he touched it gently, felt the chill flesh quiver, and was struck by an overwhelming craving so intense it was more than a physical longing for sustenance. He pulled his hand back, suppressing the shiver that crawled up his spine. As he did so, the sensation of despair passed.

Aware of what to expect, he reached forward again, willing himself not to withdraw from the touch, either mentally or physically. His hand rested on the rough surface, caressing it gently, trying to convey open acceptance. Again, he was bombarded by a barrage of feelings, familiar and yet as alien as his companion.

Placing his other hand along the cool flank of his visitor, he bent so he could rest his cheek against its hide, emptying his mind, opening it as Troi had tried to teach him so many years ago, to the thoughts of Arrahla. Riker lifted his head in surprise. A name, whether of the individual or the race, he could not be sure, and the name hadn not been conveyed to him in words, but as an image. He laid his head down once more. Arrahla was sorry he had caused pain. He had not known four-limbed creatures could sense so much. Riker was struck by the intensity of the emotion perceived as a kaleidoscopic tumult of darkness and light, images without color, but which needed no verbal interpretation, a communication that was simply felt.

Carefully, Riker's left hand sought the tip of the limb upon which he had rested his head. The limb lay quietly next to him. Opening his hand, he spoke softly, "Peace offering." This time he allowed the tentacle to adhere to his arm and did not withdraw, though every fiber of his being screamed for him to do so. Allowing Arrahla to feed conjured old nightmares that reeked of dark magic and vampirism, yet he sensed no malice in Arrahla's touch. There was a gentle sucking sensation, his panic dissolved, and he felt an overwhelming sensation of peace. The gnawing ache in his middle, that was not his hunger, abated.

Flushed and sated, Riker fought the urge to drowse. Opening his mind to Arrahla's thoughts and trying to form mental questions of his own, he thought of his precipitous arrival here, of Abruzzi's death, his home on the Enterprise. In return, he received a confusion of imagery, most darkly alien, but the emotions were startlingly familiar. He sensed aloneness, sorrow and vast age. Riker was most intrigued by the latter because it was presented to him as the creation of the planetoid he was entombed in, cubicle by cubicle, each requiring many years to form. Abruzzi's notion of the chambered nautilus wasn't as far from the truth as she had assumed.

Curious about his own captivity, Riker was rewarded with distinct images of the passageway he and Abruzzi had traveled before they had fallen. He felt again, the dizzying descent to the bottom of the hidden shaft and could see the corridor leading to his current cell, though he had been unconscious when he had been brought here. It was the only clear image he received, before Arrahla's thoughts became a dark muddle. Arrahla was suddenly distracted. Riker would have called him worried had he chosen to assign a Human reaction to the state of his thoughts. Then he sensed, almost heard, the searchers looking for him above and his own heart leapt with hope. He reached out, as he had done earlier, to the one mind he hoped he could touch. _Imzadi_. _Deanna_! He felt as though his cry echoed through the darkened passageways. Desperately, he called out again. All the sadness and longing of his alien companion surged into the mental call.

Then he could feel her here with him, her mind sparkling dear, like fine wine. But the interpretation was that of Arrahla and he felt the alien's pleasure at touching her consciousness.

"Help me get back to my ship," Riker said through the anxious tightness in his throat, "and perhaps we can help you." But Riker knew it was already too late Arrahla was very old and he was dying. The pressure on his numbed arm eased. Quietly, Arrahla withdrew. Riker tried desperately to hold on to the tentacle, but no physical strength could have held it He wanted to express his gratitude, to offer his help again, but it was as though a wall had closed on Arrahla's mind, a wall as dense as the impenetrable darkness. Dropping to his stomach near the opening at the back of his cell, Riker called down the tube, "Arrahla!" But his voice was lost in the hollow emptiness.

"Three cc's of metrazine. He has a hairline skull fracture and we need to stabilize his vitals as quickly as possible. I need a neck brace, and a sterile field on this arm. Damn. It looks like it's been flayed then dehydrated. It'll hurt like hell if he regains consciousness."

"Doesn't hurt at all," Riker mumbled. He was confused, disoriented, his head pounding, his tongue thick and swollen with thirst.

"Don't try to talk, Commander. Save your strength. We'll have you back to the ship in no time."

_Where the hell am I_? Riker thought through the drugs working their magic on his aching skull. _No, this is wrong!_

"Abruzzi is dead, Doctor," said another, younger voice. "She appears to be in the same condition as the commander's arm, only more extensive."

"And that, I don't understand," Crusher muttered. "A fall down a shaft wouldn't do that, and there is nothing detectable in the atmosphere that would cause such a reaction. It's as though all the water and essential nutritive elements had been sucked right out through her skin. Place her in a stasis field and return her to the Enterprise. Have Doctor Angola start an autopsy ASAP. We may need the information to treat Commander Riker. We don't know if this is a chemical reaction or environmental. Still no life sign readings, Ensign?"

"None, Doctor. No life signs, not even viral or bacterial. The planetoid appears to be completely sterile."

"Then we will be able to transport Commander Riker directly to Sickbay as soon as he stabilizes. The metrazine is starting to work."

"Arrahla," Riker forced through parched lips. "Arrahla.";

"Take it easy, Will." Riker felt a comforting touch on his shoulder, and the warm mental presence he knew so well.

"Deanna." His words felt leaden, slurred by medication and by the abominable ache in his skull. "You can sense him can't you?"- .. .

"Who, Will?" Deanna brushed the hair back from his forehead.

"Arrahla He's here. He kept me alive. He did this to my arm and to..." Riker shuddered at the implication. "And to Abruzzi. He was hungry. But he fed me. Can't you sense him?"

"No, Will. I don't detect any life forms."

"But he's here," Riker half rose from the pallet he lay on, wincing at the throbbing pain still undimmed by the metrazine. "He's here. He kept me alive. I didn't dream it. Look at my arm."

"Lay down, Commander," Crusher said firmly. "It took us three days to locate you. You've a serious head injury and have probably been unconscious for most of the last three days. If you don't relax and let me do my job, I'll be forced to sedate you."

"But there is a life form on this planet, Doctor," Riker insisted.

"And head injuries can sometimes cause delusions, Commander." Crusher's voice had assumed an icy, no-nonsense tone.

"Deanna?" Riker turned toward her. "He's telepathic. A touch telepath, but very powerful. You have to be able to read something."

"I'm sorry, Will, I can't sense any sentient beings here."

"All right," Crusher interrupted, "the sooner we get Will back to the ship, the better, Deanna. Activate the homing beacon, Ensign. The commander and I are beaming directly to Sickbay. You will follow."

"No," Riker began to protest, as the gentle pressure of a hypospray hissed against his neck. "Arrahla..." he whispered.

Deanna Troi watched the iridescent shimmer of the transport effect engulf Will Riker and Beverly Crusher. She was totally in tune with Riker's emotional state as he drifted into unconsciousness. The desperate need for her to believe him was foremost in his thoughts. She could not deny that she had been startled by the strength of the mental contact that had led her and the search party to Riker. The naked, primal emotion she had sensed in the telepathic cry had been inhuman in its intensity. The psychologist in her had logically explained the call for help as the incoherent ravings of a badly injured Human. So why did she sit here now, waiting in the black silence?

"Because I believe you, Will, and because you believe in this Arrahla. But I cannot sense him as you did, as you wish me to do." There was only emptiness. In the vast, complex warren of caverns that had engulfed and almost destroyed Will Riker, that had destroyed Evlin Abruzzi, she waited. But there appeared to be nothing waiting with her.

Sighing, she activated the homing mechanism that would alert the transporter room of her location and return her to the Enterprise. The silence had become tangible and she wanted to be away. She would be needed when Riker awoke. As the first wave of molecular disassociation tingled through her, she heard a distant whisper of farewell.

_The End_


End file.
